


I Hope That You Burn

by peterpan_in_neverland



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 05:49:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11434464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterpan_in_neverland/pseuds/peterpan_in_neverland
Summary: A bit hard to explain. Follows the lyrics of Burn off the Hamilton Soundtrack, and explains some of Eliza's feelings a bit more than what the song did. Hope you enjoy!





	I Hope That You Burn

_ I saved every letter you wrote me _

Eliza reached for the box that had been sitting under their bed for years, since they had gotten married. 

It was true; she  _ *had* _ saved every letter Alexander had written for her. Some were yellowing and curling at the corners, their age evident. Others were newer, one had even been written a few days ago. 

She opened the box, and took a deep breath. 

_ From the moment I read them I knew you were mine _

She took the oldest one, the one sitting at the bottom, and unfolded it. The words, though faded, were still there. She remember them, as though they had been stamped into her brain and inscribed on her heart. 

She could remember being young and so deep down in love that it burned. She could remember running her fingers over the words and the letters, smiling and the happiness running along her skin and into her blood and her bones. 

Now, that had been replaced; she had read the pamphlet moments ago, gripped it so tightly it had ripped in small spots like cracks in a foundation, and the anger and sadness had rushed through her, starting and ending in her heart. 

_ You said you were mine. _

He had. 

I thought you were mine.

She had. 

_ Do you know what Angelica said, when we saw your first letter arrive? _

The letter had been brought in with the rest of the mail Peggy had gotten. The envelope had been stuffed thick, indicative of many pages. 

“It's for you,” Peggy had said, dropping it in front of her. She opened it, scanning through it, Angelica reading over her shoulder. 

_ “Be careful with that one, love. He will do what it takes to survive.” _

Angelica had said, combing her fingers through Eliza's hair gently. 

“I will be fine, Angelica,” she had insisted, turning to look at her. 

“I don't want your heart to break.” 

_ You and your words flooded my senses. _

His words had flooded her with an extreme happiness and naivety, even when she had begged him to take a break. He had, somehow, always talked his way out of it, shimmying away from her requests to resume his writing.  

And now, she wondered, had he been writing the pamphlet at one of the many times she had begged him to take a break?

_ Your sentences left me defenseless.  _

She had fallen, blindingly hard, and had left her heart defenseless. That had been a different time, a different way, when she didn't fear being defenseless. 

Now, she feared it. She feared the open vulnerability that she wore on her,  _ defenseless. _

And now, she vowed to herself. 

Now, she would not be defenseless. 

_ You built me palaces out of paragraphs, you built cathedrals.  _

The palaces and cathedrals were crashing, collapsing from the inside out, breaking down when Eliza couldn't. She still had children to put to bed, to comfort, to lie to;  _ it will be okay, I’m alright. _

_ I’m re-reading the letters you wrote me. _

She scanned the last line of the letter:  _ I will love you always. _

She seized the box, throwing the scattered letters back inside, and rushed out of the room that now disgusted her. 

Something terrible and ugly inside of her said to ignore her children, but she would not succumb to it, would not let her children think for even a moment that something deep in her had broken. 

And so, with all the energy still stored in her, she put on a brave face and told her children goodnight. 

She turned out of their rooms now, and rushed down the hall, careful to keep her footfalls light and even. 

She came to a door; it lead to a rarely used basement. She mounted the stairs, only the box, a copy of the pamphlet, and a lit candle she had grabbed from Philips room were in her hands. 

_ I’m searching and scanning for answering in every line, for some kind of sign, _

She half fell, half sat on the ground, her dress bunching under her. She reached for the box after setting down the candle, and caught up a letter in her hand. 

She read through the methodical lines of words of love and passion, and seemed to search for answers. For some kind of sign, 

_ And when you were mine. _

He was, no longer, hers. That much was evident. 

_ The world seemed to, _

Eliza closed her eyes, and behind her eyelids, something sparked. 

_ Burn _

The world behind her eyelids was angry with fire, the ground and walls and trees made of paper with Alexander's false words of love. 

_ Burn _

She would let them burn, let the flames in her mind consume them until they had been returned to ash.

_ You published the letters she wrote you.  _

The letters had been written with words of helplessness, of an infatuation. 

Something that made Eliza's skin burn and her stomach churn with a familiarity. 

Something that made her think, for a fleeting, burning moment, if she had mistaken love for a deep infatuation. 

_ You told the whole world how you brought this girl into our bed.  _

Their bed repulsed her now, an ugly feeling that felt too much like gagging. 

That had been what made her seize the box and run from the room, the sudden feeling of being gagged and trapped by the very air. 

_ In clearing your name, you have ruined our lives. _

Not just his and hers, but the children's. Her life had been ruined, most of her security ripped away from her, making her feel vulnerable and exposed. 

But the children? They would grow up with this knowledge forever. Their lives would be ruined, shredded. 

Philip and Angelica, their two oldest, were at the age where they understood. Angelica was a tearful mess, Philip the only one able to comfort her. 

Eliza was suddenly struck with a brutal thought; her earlier hopes of Philip being like his father would never be the same. Now, she hoped that he would be nothing at all like Alexander Hamilton. 

_ Do you know what Angelica said, when she read what you'd done? _

Angelica had come to the house, in a vain hope of concealing Eliza from the truth for any amount of time. But it had been too late.

She found Eliza at the kitchen table, reading the pamphlet and shaking, with sadness or anger, Angelica would never know. 

Angelica let out a sad breath. 

_ She said, “you have married an Icarus, he has flown too close to the sun.”  _

Eliza closed her eyes against the words, and let their ringing truth pass through her body like an arrow. 

_ You and your words obsessed with your legacy _

It had always been that way. Everything had been to preserve his place in history, to burn his way into the minds of future generations. 

It could almost make her sick. 

_ Your sentences border on senseless  _

It was odd. The thing that should've been attached to him, should have brought a direct bridge to his mind, did not. His writing in the pamphlet was so detached from everything he had ever written before, and Eliza saw it. 

She couldn't help but think… 

_ And you are paranoid in every paragraph _

That's what has gripped him. A paranoia. He knew he would lose something in the process: his legacy, his mistress, or his Eliza. 

But she was no longer his. 

_ How they perceive you  _

A part of her wanted them to perceive the brilliant man she had known. 

The other part wanted them to perceive him as what he had put out: a paranoid, adulterous, legacy-obsessed man with nothing left to lose. 

_ You, you, you _

_ You  _ are the reason that my heart is broken, Eliza thought.  _ You  _ are the reason that our children will grow up in the shadow of an adulterous father.  _ You  _ are the reason that your legacy is tainted. 

_ I’m erasing myself from the narrative _

History would not, could not touch her. This was her choice, as much as it was to follow her heart before. And she would follow it, again. 

_ Let future historians wonder how Eliza reacted _

Let them, she thought. Let them wonder how she reacted, 

_ When you broke her heart _

Into a million pieces. Shattered. Impossible to piece back together completely. 

_ You have torn it all apart  _

Viciously, she grabbed a letter, ripping it in two down the middle. She folded it again, ripping and ripping until there pieces were the size of her thumbnail. 

_ I am watching it _

She seized another letter, and slowly, held it up to the flame on the candle. 

_ Burn _

The corner of the thick paper began to brown, curling in on itself as the flame spread to it. She dropped it in a nearby bucket, before the flames could catch her fingers.

_ The world has to right to my heart _

They did not, never would. 

_ The world has no place in our bed _

_ How _ could Alexander not understand that? How could he think this was  _ right _ ? 

_ They don't get to know what I said _

No one would. 

She would never give them the satisfaction. 

_ I’m burning the memories _

She closed her eyes again, welcoming the burning paper world again, letting it consume everything she had once felt for Alexander. 

_ Burning the letters that might have redeemed you _

It had only occurred to her then that the letters could have been his saving grace. She picked up another letter, and a twisted thing inside her shouted in triumph as she burned it, revelling in the slimming chances for Alexander to  _ ever _ redeem himself. 

_ You forfeit all rights to my heart _

He would have to let her go, have to realize that not only did he lose his mistress, but now he has lost Eliza, and she was no longer his. His legacy would forever be warped. 

_ Your forfeit a place in our bed, you'll sleep in your office instead  _

He would never see the four walls of their bedroom again. He didn't deserve it. His office would be much better for him, besides, he slept in there enough as it was. 

_ With only the memories of when you were mine _

She seized another letter, sticking it above the flame. Alexander would be stuck with not only the memories, but with the knowledge that she would no longer be the Eliza that softened under his touch and was helpless to him. 

Now she would soften for no one, be helpless to no one. 

_ I hope that you burn _

She grabbed the final letter, and stuck it above the flame with a stony resolve.  _ Alexander can burn, for all I care. _

Finally, she allowed herself to cry. The tears slid down her cheeks, and she dropped the letter in the bucket with the smoldering remains of the others. 

She face fell into her hands, smelling of smoke and parchment. She sobbed, letting herself one moment to cry alone. 

She heard the basement door creak open, and her head jerked up. 

“M-Mommy?” She watery voice of her younger daughter broke her from her reverie, and she stood up. “Where are you?!” She daughter voice was thick with tears, and Eliza wiped away her own, hoping she looked strong enough. 

“I'm right here, it's okay, you're okay.” She pulled her daughter into her, letting her cry into her shoulder, telling her of a bad dream where the world had been on fire. 

Eliza fought back her own tears again, and ran her hand soothingly through her daughter's thick curls. 

Eliza's momentary dream world had been her daughter's nightmare, and she would have to live with that forever. 


End file.
